The Mad Archiver
ARCHIVE INDEX » EPISODE TRANSCRIPT
ALIAS, SEASON 1 EPISODE 3
(Continuing from last episode: Sydney is in Cairo, gun to her head, holding the plutonium core of the nuke.)
HASSAN: (speaks Arabic)
SYDNEY: I am holding enough plutonium here to liquefy our insides in forty-eight hours.
HASSAN: Put it down.
SYDNEY: If I put it down, you kill me.
HASSAN: Now. I'm going to count to one.
(She throws the core in the air, takes the gun from Hassan and kicks him three times. She knocks him out with the last kick to the stomach, catches the core, and runs. She runs down the hall.)
(After class, Sydney corners her professor.)
PROFESSOR: You're falling behind, Sydney. And I don't accept late papers.
SYDNEY: Wait, okay. You know what? Good point. You shouldn't. But I do have a real good excuse, okay? I was on a business trip and my flight was delayed.
(Cairo. Guards shoot at Sydney, she flops behind a wall and speaks to the C.I.A. operative via her watch while bullets fly.)
SYDNEY: I have the bomb and I'm ready for extraction!
OPERATIVE: ETA, two minutes!
SYDNEY: I might not have two minutes!
PROFESSOR: If you recall, I made it clear in my syllabus that I was happy to accept your papers via e-mail, if you can't get them to me directly. You do have e-mail, don't you?
SYDNEY: Yes, see, you're not going to believe this, you're not, but, there was a blackout where I was staying.
(He looks at her dubiously.)
(Cairo. Explosions in the distance. Sydney runs up the stairs, on her way to the exit but hears something fall. A slight "ping" noise. She turns, horrified, and sees the core roll down the floor to the stairs.)
PROFESSOR: Okay, stop. I can appreciate the complexities of pursuing a grad degree with a full-time job, but it seems to me that your work is taking precedence over your education. Now, admit it, Sydney. You're dropping the ball.
(Cairo. Sydney throws herself to the ground, grabbing the core before it rolls down the stairs. Breathing heavily, she takes a grenade, pulls the pin, and throws it at the guards. Explosion. Outside the warehouse, sand flies everywhere as a spotlight of a helicopter shines down on her, its propellors whirring.)
SYDNEY: The truth... my job is a means to an end. And your class makes me feel like maybe, someday, I'll be able to do more with my life.
(Cairo. Inside the helicopter, Sydney sits, still panting. She hands the core over to a C.I.A. operative sitting next to her. He puts the core in a padded briefcase. She looks out the helicopter gratefully.)
PROFESSOR: All right. Next paper's due Thursday. I assume that won't be a problem.
SYDNEY: No, not at all. Okay. Thank you so much.
(Her pager goes off. She looks at it. "SLOANE - 911.")
PROFESSOR: Are you sure about that?
SYDNEY: How's Friday?
(Sydney's new house. She gets cups of coffee for Francie and herself.)
FRANCIE: What's crazy is Charlie has an amazing offer from Fleming Letterman. It's like, the most prestigious law firm in L.A.
SYDNEY: But Charlie's not excited?
FRANCIE: He's just kind of weird. He never wants to talk about it. He doesn't brag. Wouldn't you brag? I would. I would be non-stop talking about myself if a firm like that wanted me.
SYDNEY: Just remember you and Charlie are coming from very different places. I mean, in his whole family, he's first-generation college.
FRANCIE: That's true.
SYDNEY: Not to mention law school. He's probably nervous. He's probably terrified.
FRANCIE: That's kind of what my dad said. I called him last night to ask him what he thought. He said, "Listen, missy, give it a rest. You're making something out of nothing. Charlie is one of the good ones."
SYDNEY: Your dad is right.
FRANCIE: It's just weird, having that feeling that someone you love isn't telling you everything.
SYDNEY: I can't believe you can call your dad for advice. I... I just can't imagine.
FRANCIE: You know, the worst thing is having a dad that is always right.
SYDNEY: No, it's not the worst thing. I ran into my father last week.
SYDNYE: Just-just out... shopping. It was-it was so empty. It wasn't empty, it was full, actually. Full of awkwardness and lame pauses and... I don't know.
FRANCIE: Your dad, you know, he's just... he's just your dad.
SYDNEY: I don't want it to be like that anymore, I'm just sick of it. I mean, I always had this feeling that maybe someday, I don't know, my dad and I would connect. That things could start to get better.
FRANCIE: Well, you know my opinion of your dad.
SYDNEY: I know.
FRANCIE: But listen. If you can find it in your heart to forgive him for being the kind of guy he's been all your life, which I would find impossible and could never do, then you should make a real effort.
SYDNEY: How do you even start something like that? I have so many questions, I just...
FRANCIE: You can call the man.
SYDNEY: I'm not going to reconnect with my father over the phone.
FRANCIE: Fine. Go to his work. Go to the airplane factory or whatever, and just start talking. You're really good at talking.
(Parking lot. Mr. Bristow gets out of his car, walks.)
MR. BRISTOW: (turns) Sydney, what are you doing here?
SYDNEY: I would have called, I just didn't know if that was--
MR. BRISTOW: You shouldn't be here.
SYDNEY: I told you I have a thousand questions. They're keeping me awake at night.
MR. BRISTOW: Then take something.
SYDNEY: Dad, did you know SD-6 was going to recruit me? I mean, did you help?
MR. BRISTOW: This isn't the time.
SYDNEY: Then I need to ask you about mom.
MR. BRISTOW: Sydney--
SYDNEY: Was it just an accident? Or-or did you tell her about what you were doing, like I told Danny?
MR. BRISTOW: Look where you are! You're exposed.
SYDNEY: Dad, please--
MR. BRISTOW: Don't come here again. Not again.
(He walks away.)
(Credit Dauphine. Meeting with Sloane, Marshall, Sydney and Dixon.)
SLOANE: That device that you withdrew from Taepei last month remains in Analysis. They're still trying to figure out exactly what it does and how it does it. At the time, I told you that Vascar Mueller was the designer. In truth, Mueller was just an academic, a scientiest who took another man's sketches, translated them into practical construction plans and put it all together.
SYDNEY: So then, who designed it?
SLOANE: A man named Milo Rambaldi.
DIXON: Never heard of him.
SLOANE: That doesn't surprise me. He died in 1496. Rambaldi was Pope Alexander VI's chief architect, ex-communicated for heresy, sentenced to death for suggesting that someday, science could allow us to know God. After Rambaldi's death, his workshop was torn apart, his plans and sketches were traded and sold for next to nothing. For the next five centuries, his work was scattered throughout the world. No one is exactly sure what's left, which is unfortunate because last March, a Russian historian happened upon one of Rambaldi's early designs. She recognized something that looked a lot like a transistor.
SYDNEY: I don't understand. (to Dixon) Do you understand?
SLOANE: It seems that Rambaldi was a prophet. We acquired one of his notebooks from San Lazaro. This is the analysis report.
(He gives it to Sydney. She reads.)
SYDNEY: "Rudementary schematic for a transportable vocal communicator."
SLOANE: The guy was drawing up plans for a cell phone around the time of the Ottoman empire.
DIXON: Come on!
SLOANE: Ridiculous, right? You know me. I am not a New Age kind of guy. I don't believe in the power of the pyramid. I'm not a big granola fan. This sort of thing makes me roll my eyes. And then my eyes came across this.
(He puts up another slide on the screens in front of them. Binary code flashes across the screen.)
SLOANE: Written in 1489.
DIXON: Rambaldi wrote machine code?
MARSHALL: Actually, if-if I could... it's probably not machine code. I mean, the concept of zero's been around, well, it precedes Christ, and the numeral one has been around even longer than that. Actually, you know, Ptolemy used zero as punctuation marks and in Indian texts, zero is more of a spiritual concept than an actual number. Of course, I don't mean--when I say "Indian," I don't mean the kind with bow and arrows--
SLOANE: Thank you, Marshall. We don't know what it is. Rambaldi has become a priority for us. We want to learn what it is before anyone else does.
SYDNEY: Have you tried running the sequence?
SLOANE: It's incomplete. The entire sequence was written on the back of two Rambaldi sketches. We possess one, and the other one is in this man's private collection.
(He puts a surveillance photo up on the screens of a man.)
SLOANE: Eduardo Benegas. Spanish. V.C. Auto enthusiast.
MARSHALL: He also happens to own the largest collection of pornographic art in all of Madrid. Which... I thought was an interesting fact. Sorry.
SLOANE: We negotiated with him to buy one of the sketches, but suddenly he withdrew the piece. We believe that somebody tipped him off of its real vaule. We think it's K-Directorate. Unfortunately, they're on to Rambaldi, too.
(Sydney stares ahead. Suddenly, we see Benegas having sex with someone. A chain around his neck slams against his chest. He flings the chain so it lands on his back.)
SLOANE: (voice over) It's possible K-Directorate stole the key from Benegas. Our data reconnassaince division thinks, although it hasn't been confirmed yet, that he's surrounded with a half-dozen bodyguards. We're talking about guys trained under the U.E.I. special forces. We also have reason to believe that Benegas keeps the key on him at all times. So, the big question is, how did K-Directorate swipe the key?
(Benegas keeps having sex with someone we can't see, until a hand belonging to a woman slithers up his back. She has a tattoo on her hand by her thumb. She takes the key. Back at SD-6...)
SYDNEY: Ana. It was Ana, wasn't it?
(Outside. A man picks up the litter. Sydney is on campus. She's writing at a picnic table.)
SYDNEY: (voice over) Eduardo Benegas has a sketch drawn by Milo Rambaldi.
(She scrunches up the brown paper bag.)
SYDNEY: (V.O.) There's a code written on the back.
(She dials a number on her cell phone, punches the appropriate number.)
SYDNEY: (V.O.) SD-6 wants that code. The sketch is in a case. The case is in a vault. The vault is on the top floor of a car museum owned by Benegas.
(Other part of campus. Sydney walks with Francie and tosses the bag in the garbage. The man collecting the garbage from earlier takes the bag and keeps walking.)
SYDNEY: (V.O.) So, I'm going to Madrid. What's my counter mission?
(Sydney's house. Will brings in a box for her; she unpacks.)
WILL: So, it's two thousand words or less on gene sequencing in virus-resistant cabbages, all right? And I'm realizing slowly that I might not have a real handle on the situation.
SYDNEY: Which part?
WILL: Uh, just the part about the gene sequencing in the virus-resistant cabbage.
(They both smile; Sydney's cell phone rings.)
SYDNEY: Doesn't your paper have a science correspondent? (in phone) Hello? Hi...
(The landline phone rings. Will motions to Sydney if she wants him to answer. He does.)
SYNDEY: Okay, uh, yeah...
SYDNEY: Okay, thanks, I will come by.
WILL: Sorry, you have the wrong number.
SYDNEY: Thanks so much.
WILL: Okay, bye.
(They both hang up.)
WILL: So, you're busy.
SYDNEY: What was--
WILL: You okay? When you were on the phone, it looked like--
SYDNEY: It was Danny's landlord. They found some of his stuff in the garage.
WILL: Oh, you all right?
SYDNEY: Yeah. Yeah.
WILL: Do you want me to go--I can get that stuff for you. Bring it back.
SYDNEY: Would you mind? It's just, I have to go to San Diego for the bank tonight...
WILL: Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about it, it's done. It's done.
(He pats her arm and goes back to moving boxes. Sydney looks.)
SYDNEY: So, who called?
WILL: Oh, it was a wrong number. They were looking for a pizza place.
SYDNEY: You know what? I think I'm going to go for a quick run before my cab comes.
(Outside in a park. Sydney runs and stops at a bench where Vaughn and his dog stand, stretching. She stands on the other side of the bench and stretches.)
VAUGHN: Devlin wants you to follow through on Sloane's orders. Apparently, we're both after the same piece of missing code.
SYDNEY: You're kidding me.
SYDNEY: You already knew about Rambaldi?
VAUGHN: I didn't. The agency did. Davinci meets Nostradamus -- personally, I don't buy it.
SYDNEY: Tell the C.I.A. station clerk in Barcelona to prep for a dead drop. Worst case, I'll encrypt the code on a Radiohead MP3 and leave it on Audiogalaxy.
VAUGHN: How did Russian underground find out about Rambaldi?
SYDNEY: Hey, you're the intel guy.
VAUGHN: (smiles) What can you tell me about this woman? Ana Espinosa?
SYDNEY: She was born in Cuba, raised in Russia. One of the last Cold War babies, go-to officer at K-Directorate for wet work and active measures. About a year ago, I had a meeting with an informant in Yugoslavia. Low level; just a guy with intel who needed the money. Ana recorded the entire conversation with a parabolic mic from the building next door.
VAUGHN: How do you know?
SYDNEY: Because as I was shaking his hand to leave, she blew out the back of his skull with a sniper rifle, even though she got what she came for. Her way of telling me I was out of my league.
VAUGHN: Be careful out there.
SYDNEY: See you when I get back.
VAUGHN: No, actually, you won't. Uh, I'm being replaced by a senior officer. It seems I wasn't experienced enough to be your handler.
(Sydney and Vaughn suddenly both look sad and disappointed; Sydney looks shocked.)
VAUGHN: It was really good to meet you. Good luck in Madrid.
(He walks away, giving a side look Sydney's way. She watches him leave.)
(Weiss' office. Weiss sits behind his desk; Vaughn paces and rants.)
VAUGHN: He's an IDIOT! I mean, that's the problem. So is Davenport. I mean, they're so involved in their own bureaucratic--
WEISS: Protocol, I know.
VAUGHN: You know who's replacing me?
WEISS: Yes. Lambert.
VAUGHN: Lambert! LAMBERT!
WEISS: Can I say something, and-and not just as a fellow officer, but as a very smart man?
WEISS: You're starting to get a little too emotional about this.
VAUGHN: Not this again...
WEISS: You are. You are obviously attached to this woman--
VAUGHN: This is your answer for everything!
WEISS: If you were paying me to analyze you--
VAUGHN: Shut up! Stop it!
WEISS: I gotta tell you, I'd actually say that maybe you're a little jealous.
VAUGHN: Of Lambert?! Give me a break! I mean, the guy may be senior (points to brain) but he's junior. Trust me.
WEISS: And now he gets to see Sydney every week, and it's making you crazy.
VAUGHN: This is not about me!
WEISS: Yes, it is!
VAUGHN: No, it's not! (pauses; sits) She's going to Madrid. There's this other agent with K-Directorate. She could not sound more dangerous. I'm scared for Sydney. I know I'm off the case. (sighs) But, I want her to come back.
WEISS: Well, look, there's nothing you can do about it, and you don't even know if this K-Directorate woman will be in Madrid. So, why worry?
(Madrid. Airport. We think it's Sydney in Madrid, but then we see the same hand Sydney saw. The hand with the tattoo. Ana walks, carrying a briefcase, through the airport in Madrid. She smiles.)
(Vaughn's office. Lambert reads Vaughn's file on Sydney.)
LAMBERT: You sure wrote a hell of a lot about this Bristow girl. Anything else I need to know about her?
VAUGHN: I think you'll find that Sydney is quite capable of speaking for herself.
LAMBERT: (sees a picture of her) Look at her. Wouldn't kick that out of bed.
(SD-6. Marshall meets with Dixon and Sydney.)
MARSHALL: Okay, so, you're going to Madrid tonight, and the fundraiser's going to be at this Vieta Auto Museum, and you'll probably want to dress nice, you know, dress to thrill. So, I thought maybe you'd like to wear this necklace, huh? Now, the pearls are actually fiberglass. That's better to, uh, transmit the vibrations from your larynx to the mic right inside the pendant. Uh, you maybe you want to try it on? Or, I-I could sample it? Probably wouldn't match my...
(At the auto museum, Sydney enters wearing a red dress and a red wig. A man at the door compliments her on the necklace. In Spanish, she thanks him and walks inside.)
SYDNEY: I'm in.
DIXON: Roger that.
MARSHALL: Last year, Benegas lent some money to the paramilitary down in Colombia, which well, uh, it didn't fly real well with the guerillas, and so everyone's going to be a bit jumpy tonight. But, see, that's okay. We can use that because we've got a normal-looking Spanish peseta, right? Wrong. Sonic wave emitter.
(At the party, Sydney walks and takes the coin out of her purse.)
MARSHALL: (voice over) Just make sure you drop it near a window.
(She does so. She looks around, walks, mingles in the crowd. Sydney feels someone's eyes on her, looks up, and sees Ana posing as a waitress. They make eye contact. Ana winks at Sydney.)
SYDNEY: Ana just crashed the party.
(Dixon's inside a van with camera screens up everywhere.)
DIXON: Careful, Syd.
MARSHALL: Now, look, you guys. I don't even want to tell you when you're out in the field or like that, but the unveiling of the prototype would probably be a good time to, y'know, activate the coin because as hot as you look, they'd be looking at the car, and not at you.
ANNOUNCER: Benegas Racing is proud to present it's new 627-110 prototype!
(A sheet raises over the car, everyone applaudes.)
MARSHALL: (v.o.) You take this pen right here, normal looking pen that you write with.
(Sydney takes out the pen.)
MARSHALL: (v.o.) Click that like that, and boom.
(She clicks the pen and the window shatters. Everyone yells and runs. Sydney runs to the stairs.)
MARSHALL: Now, the vault is on the top floor, so you're going to have to bypass all the security camers and everything, so I got a remote modem. Remote modem. What you do is you wire it in the central junction box, which is located on the first floor, then Dixon can loop the video signal.
(Sydney is at the security boxes, unlocks it. Dixon sits in his van outside the museum.)
DIXON: Central panel, junction box "A."
(At the security panel, Sydney opens box "A.")
SYDNEY: Damn it.
SYDNEY: Ana's already been here. She's tapped into the alarm system.
DIXON: Remote modem?
SYDNEY: Yes. Which means she's got back-up.
DIXON: All right, Sydney, leave it there, we'll piggyback off their signal. We don't want to trigger the central alarm.
(Sydney hooks a wire into the remote modem that's already there, thanks to Ana.)
SYDNEY: Do you see Ana on any of the monitors?
DIXON: Not on any of these feeds.
(Sydney hears metal banging from above.)
SYDNEY: She's in the ducts. I'm heading for the elevator! Did you rig the camera?
(She runs to the elevator, hits a button, and glances at the camera above her. Inside the van, Dixon looks at the same camera angle where nothing is shown. Sydney is hidden. In the control room, guards speak Spanish. Sydney arrives at the top floor. There's a glass door that prevents anyone from getting to the case with the sketch in it.)
SYDNEY: I'm running the lock descrambler.
(Her eyes get wide as she sees someone welding the metal floor from underneath. Someone cuts a small circle of the floor out, and Ana comes up. She's on the other side; the glass door divides them. She sees Sydney, barricaded on the other side, and smirks.)
SYDNEY: Dixon, Ana's in the vault.
(Ana easily takes the case, gets ready to leave.)
DIXON: The vault will unlock in five seconds.
(Suddenly, the descrambler stops at 75%.)
SYDNEY: What's wrong with the descrambler?
DIXON: They're jamming your frequency. I'll try and find them!
(Ana speaks into her watch, to the other K-Directorate operative, I'm assuming. She goes up to the glass door, case in hand, and stares at Sydney. Ana kisses the door, leaving a red lipstick imprint on it. She drops the case through the hole she made, and jumps down, escaping. Alarm blares. Guards start running for the top floor. Sydney tries the elevator, nothing happens.)
SYDNEY: Dixon, the elevator's locked down! The descrambler's still jammed!
(She's trapped. Dixon is in the driver's seat of the van now, comes closer to a white parked van. Inside, two K-Directorate men just like Dixon look at monitors with ear pieces in them.)
DIXON: Hold on, Sydney, I see them.
SYDNEY: Hurry! Hurry, they're coming up!
(Inside, Ana is walking away, speaks into her earpiece. Dixon puts on his seatbelt and crashes into the van, sending it tumbling away on its roof. Sydney sees the lock descrambler begin to move again.)
SYDNEY: We're back online!
(In the museum, Ana walks confidently. A guard stops her and asks her in Spanish to show him the case. She tells him to calm down, then elbows him in the throat. She kicks him, sending him to the ground. Party guests gasp. At the vault, the descrambler reaches a 100% and unlocks the glass door. Sydney moves behind the door, and jumps down the hole made by Ana. Guards arrive and call on their walkie-talkies. Sydney runs in the museum and sees the fallen guard. She runs down some stairs, throws her high heels off. She runs barefoot.
SYDNEY: I think she's taking the north corridor! I'm going to try to head her off!
(Ana runs down the north corridor. Sydney runs. Ana runs.)
ANA: I'm headed to the chopper now.
(Sydney and Ana are running parallel to one another. Sydney reaches to a stairway up above. She sees Ana running her way, and notices a chain wrapped around the bannister, hooked from up above. Sydney takes the chain and swings down, kicking Ana in the gut. Ana goes flying, so does the bag. Sydney tries running for the bag while Ana is on the ground, but Ana kicks her. Sydney falls. Sydney kicks her in the neck, Ana grabs a sledghammer and tries hitting Sydney a few times, but Sydney moves out of the way. Sydney kicks her. Ana grabs her arm, throws her back. Sydney dodges her punch. Ana tosses Sydney down the nearby flight of stairs and pauses to smirk at Sydney who groans in pain. Ana runs.)
SYDNEY: Dixon, she's going out back...
(Outside, Ana exits and runs. Sydney exits.)
DIXON: Sydney! Sydney, up there!
(He points up and shows Ana climbing the stairs to the roof.)
SYDNEY: Give me your gun!
SYDNEY: Give me the gun!
(Dixon hands it over. Sydney takes the gun, aims, and shoots the strap of the bag off of Ana's shoulder. The bag falls to the ground, in front of Sydney and Dixon. Ana turns and stares at her.)
(At Danny's apartment building, the door opens.)
WILL: Hi, I'm Will Tippin, I'm a friend of Sydney's. She asked me to come and pick up some of her stuff?
(Minutes later, the landlord comes out holding a box. Will is staring out the window.)
LANDLORD: This is all of it. They arrest anyone yet?
WILL: (turns) Uh, for the murder? No, no, no, not yet. Excuse me, do you have any idea how long that traffic camera's been there?
LANDLORD: No, I don't.
(Will's office, he's on the phone.)
WILL: But, do the traffic cameras take a picture at every red light, or just when a car's in the intersection? Really? Can we get a hold of every picture taken on June 8th between midnight and six a.m. at the corner of Alavis and Sunset? Okay, great. Call me back.
BOSS: Fighting a traffic ticket?
WILL: I swear to God, the genectics piece is practically arriving on your desk as we speak.
WILL: Very nearly practically. Almost concurrent with this conversation.
BOSS: So, out of two thousand words, how many have you "practically" typed?
WILL: Counting the headline?
BOSS: Will, don't make me regret hiring people in their twenties.
(Credit Dauphine. Sydney's cell phone rings.)
WILL: Hi, um, I don't know if I'm talking to the right person, but I need to borrow a million bucks. The Olsen twins went public, and I'm looking to invest.
SYDNEY: (smiles) You'll need some collateral. I don't think you've got any.
WILL: Well, have you seen my aqua blue Chevy?
SYDNEY: You mean, with the hula girl on the dash? Yes, sadly, we've seen that.
WILL: (big smile) Welcome home.
WILL: How was San Diego?
SYDNEY: Boring. How'd the article turn out?
WILL: Boring. Listen, I don't know, uh, you might be too wiped out, but some of us are going to have dinner tonight.
SYDNEY: Love to. I could use some fun. Hey, you want to do it at my place? I'll order in.
WILL: Great. Um, seven?
SYDNEY: How about seven-thirty?
WILL: Okay. I better get going before I get fired. Which is inevitable.
SYDNEY: Nothing. It's just... it's nice to be home.
WILL: Yeah. Um, I'll see you tonight.
SYDNEY: (smiles) Okay.
(Night time. Plain white van parked in an alley. Inside, Lambert and Sydney sit and talk.)
LAMBERT: I want you to know that you're going to like working with me.
LAMBERT: Must have been, uh, oh, I almost don't know how to say it, uh, devastating when Kenny was killed. But I want you to know that you can trust me. I understand you. I empathize.
SYDNEY: His name was Danny.
LAMBERT: Danny? Yes, of course, well, what happened to Danny was a tragedy and yet, uh, you didn't give up.
SYDNEY: Mr. Lambert, I got your message. Is there a reason I'm here?
LAMBERT: I just wanted to introduce myself, grab a little face time with my girl. I just wanted to make sure you don't have any queries I might be able to--
SYDNEY: I've got a query.
LAMBERT: Yeah? Shoot.
SYDNEY: Are you insane? Calling me in here for a social event? SD-6 has a division whose sole responsibility it is to track their agents and report back suspect activity. "Your girl" is risking her life, and you yours, every time we lay eyes on each other. So, do me a favor. Don't be so friendly.
LAMBERT: I-I just love your spirit.
SYDNEY: That's heartening. Are we done here?
LAMBERT: Yeah, honey. We're all done.
(Sydney's. Will, Sydney, Francie and Charlie sit on the floor drinking margaritas and playing poker.)
WILL: No, I'm telling you, I'm completely-I'm legally blind without my conctacts in.
FRANCIE: Great, another eye story.
WILL: First day I went in my apartment, right?
FRANCIE: Give me two.
WILL: And I'm in the kitchen, and I'm eating cereal for like, five minutes. And I hear someone coughing. I put on my glasses and there's three men painting my walls. I totally forgot they were coming.
CHARLIE: That's bad.
SYDNEY: No, the bad thing was, he was naked.
WILL: I was, yeah.
CHARLIE: I naked clean.
FRANCIE: Ohhh, he loves to embarrass me...
WILL: Wait, wait, wait, wait, define "naked clean" for us.
CHARLIE: I clean naked...
FRANCIE: Please don't tell this story!
CHARLIE: I clean our apartment naked. I like it.
FRANCIE: He loves to embarrass me.
WILL: You know, I'm going to see that. I'm going to raise it five.
SYDNEY: Will, you're bluffing.
CHARLIE: You hve the most obvious tell on the planet.
WILL: Whoa, whoa, whoa. First of all, not even in the hardcorest of ways do I ever bluff.
SYDNEY: You only raise when you're bluffing!
WILL: (tries to be serious) No, I don't.
SYDNEY: Full house.
CHARLIE: Oh, man.
(Will's cell phone rings.)
FRANCIE: When Will bluffs, you can tell.
WILL: (gets up) I'll be right back.
FRANCIE: How come I can never tell with you?
(Sydney shrugs knowingly. Will goes for some privacy.)
WILL: Okay, okay, wait, wait, wait. What are you saying, all of the traffic cameras were out that night? Okay, hold on. Within a mile of Danny's apartment? Now, is that-is that a normal thing? No, no, that doesn't sound like a normal thing to me.
(Back at the casino...)
CHARLIE: Look, I got a law review at six a.m., maybe we should go while we're ahead.
FRANCIE: We should go, sure, sure, sure. Thank you, Sydney.
(Charlie and Francie kiss Sydney's cheek.)
SYDNEY: Good night.
CHARLIE: Hey, see you later, Will.
FRANCIE: Bye, Will!
(Will's still talking.)
WILL: Thank you, Jenny. Thanks. That is weird, isn't it? Yeah, okay.
SYDNEY: What's weird?
(Will turns, caught.)
WILL: Huh? Oh, a stupid article I gotta write.
(Later in the kitchen. Sydney gets a jug of ice cream out of the freezer, Will is sitting on the counter.)
SYDNEY: Look at this.
SYDNEY: I don't know what it is about tequila. It's like a trigger. I always get this craving.
SYDNEY: No, it's more than a craving. When I drink tequila, ice cream becomes...
WILL: Like a chaser?
SYDNEY: Like oxygen. Like a requirement. Freshman year, I didn't go to many parties. I couldn't even say "parties." But I did go to this one...
WILL: Uh huh.
SYDNEY: I remember, I had some punch. It was mostly tequila and I got so wasted.
SYDNEY: It was pathetic. I went to this twenty-four hour market, I bought three pints of chocolate chocolate chip ice cream.
WILL: My God, is this story going to end?
SYDNEY: Shut up! (slaps him)
(Will squirts chocolate sauce on his ice cream sundae.)
SYDNEY: Mmm hmm.
WILL: Oh, my God. This is excellent.
SYDNEY: So much better.
WILL: Shhh, you gotta try this. It's a super combination of chocolate, and chips, and it's genius.
(He feeds her some.)
WILL: Isn't it?
SYDNEY: Uh huh. Here.
(She tries feeding him a spoonful of hers, but some of it falls on his shirt. They laugh, Will stands up. Sydney gets a paper towel.)
WILL: Thanks. No, thank you.
SYDNEY: I'm sorry, oh my God... (laughing)
WILL: It's good, no, this is good. My shirt didn't have enough ice cream on it.
SYDNEY: (wiping, laughing) Ooops...
(They stop. Will looks down at Sydney. She kisses him. They break away.)
SYDNEY: I should... listen, I... Will...
WILL: I left that box in my car. It's Danny's. I'm going to go get it before I forget it.
(SD-6. Sloane walks with Sydney, Marshall trails in front of them.)
SLOANE: Marshall couldn't open the lock box.
MARSHALL: Uh, in my defense, it was rigged with a brand-new tech, an internal device that will destroy anything inside if opened without the key.
SLOANE: Marshall, would you please go back to work?
MARSHALL: Just to clarify, I'm not being fired?
SLOANE: Back to work means not fired.
(Marshall goes to his desk, Sloane leads Sydney inside a boardroom.)
SLOANE: So, we needed a constigency plan. So, we brought in our best game theorist.
(Mr. Bristow turns around.)
MR. BRISTOW: Hello, Sydney.
SLOANE: Have a seat.
(She sits near her father.)
SLOANE: We mapped out a scenario where you would infiltrate the K-Directorate lab where we believe the key is being held. Jack thought -- your father thought it could be too big of a risk.
SYDNEY: Why? It sounds like the right move.
MR. BRISTOW: Obviously, we need the key. Obviously, they need the box. Six hours ago I contacted K-Directorate and we settled on an arrangement. You and Ana will meet at a neutral location, undercover on both agencies' security forces. Together, you'll open the lock box.
SYDNEY: Is this a joke?
SLOANE: As far as we know, the Directorate doesn't know the code was divided into two sketches. We have nothing to lose by letting them see what's inside the box.
MR. BRISTOW: This is a symmetric scenario. It complies both sides to adopt a mutually reinforcing course of action and close cooperation is one of the most stable strategic paradigms.
SYDNEY: Assuming all players are rational. Plus, I'm supposed to trust Ana Espinosa?
SLOANE: I need to brief the advance team.
(He leaves them alone.)
MR. BRISTOW: Their first plan was suicide.
SYDNEY: I could have handled myself.
MR. BRISTOW: Then we disagree. At least my way, you have a fighting chance.
SYDNEY: Then I guess I should thank you.
MR. BRISTOW: Never crossed my mind.
(He gets up to leave.)
SYDNEY: Before I go, just answer my question about Mom.
MR. BRISTOW: Your mother knew I was C.I.A., it was no secret between us. She died in the accident. I never lied to you about that.
(News stand, outside. Sydney stands near Lambert, looking though magazines. He puts down a copy of "Pipe Collector's Monthly," she picks it up. Inside, a baggie is taped to one of the pages.)
SYDNEY: What is this?
LAMBERT: Two-way earpiece and tracking chip. We want you to tag Ana. We've got a surveillance team on alert in Berlin.
SYDNEY: No, no, no, whose idea was this?
LAMBERT: This is my op, Agent Bristow.
SYDNEY: This only works if everyone's on their best behavior. And I'm not going to be the one to break those rules, especially when there will be a dozen snipers waiting for me to look the wrong way.
LAMBERT: I hate to pull rank, but time is a factor here.
SYDNEY: Time is a factor here. You know how much time? Seven years. That's how long I worked for SD-6 before I found out who they really are. And now that I know, my days of blindly following orders are over.
LAMBERT: Who the hell do you think you're talking to?
SYDNEY: I know exactly who I'm talking to. Tell Devlin if Agent Vaughn isn't on the other end of this earpiece when I turn it on, the C.I.A. gets nothing.
LAMBERT: Vaughn is a junior officer.
SYDNEY: Then promote him.
(Office at the newspaper. Will has a map of L.A., and is showing his boss.)
WILL: Daniel Hecht's apartment was here, the cameras were off to here. He was roughly in the center of a one-mile video blackout the night he was killed. So, unless this is a coincidence, which seems highly doubtful, there's just no way this is straight B&E.
BOSS: Maybe, but Eisenberg is on the crime desk, and you are a staff reporter who's way passed deadline.
WILL: Don't make me regret working for people in their fifties.
(She stares at him.)
BOSS: One week.
(Berlin. In a van, Dixon drives while Sydney is being wired by another agent. She talks on her cell phone.)
SYDNEY: Francie, sweetie, you're overreacting.
FRANCIE: Charlie's cheating on me. I have the proof. Found something in his pocket. It's a matchbook with some girl's name and phone number written in it.
DIXON: Copy that. We're five minutes out.
SYDNEY: You can't be paranoid. That could mean anything.
FRANCIE: It says, "I truly loved tonight. Rachel." The matchbook is from a hotel.
SYDNEY: Oh, Fran, just don't assume the worst yet. I mean, you won't know until you know and the truth isn't always what it looks like.
(The agent touches her breast, she slaps his hand and says something in German.)
FRANCIE: Syd, where are you?
SYDNEY: I'm actually with a German client, let me call you right back.
(Inside a stadium, an agent walks through.)
AGENT: All right, hey, listen up. Per agreement with the Directorate, we're going to divide the stadium straight down the middle. They get the west side, we get the east side. Alpha team, you're on rear over watch just in case they try to surprise us. Bravo and Charlie teams, you're on counter snipers. Now the rules of engagement are: you're authorized to fire only if our assets are fired upon.
(A lot of snipers march up the steps to take position.)
AGENT: Everyone hold your position, we're waiting for Bristow to go hot mic.
(Sydney walks in with the lock box. Down the stadium steps. A sniper is pointed at her.)
SYDNEY: Who am I talking to?
VAUGHN: Your invisible friend.
(Vaughn sits behind a computer and zooms in on Sydney walking in the stadium.)
SYDNEY: Good. Where are you?
VAUGHN: Satellite relay station back in L.A., watching you from a two-hundred mile orbit.
SYDNEY: (looks up at the sky) My guardian angel.
VAUGHN: I was going to say the same thing to you. Thanks for the promotion.
SYDNEY: You're welcome.
VAUGHN: Hey, heads up.
(A car drives in. Sydney looks at her watch.)
DIXON: Team leader, we're hot.
VOICE: Copy that.
SYDNEY: She's coming.
(Back at SD-6, Sloane and Mr. Bristow watch on a computer screen.)
SLOANE: Have you two spoken about her mother?
MR. BRISTOW: Yes. She asked me about her death.
SLOANE: Did you tell her the truth?
(Mr. Bristow shakes his head.)
(In the stadium, Sydney stands and waits. The car slows to a stop, and Ana gets out. Vaughn watches from his desk, worried. The car drives away, and Ana walks on the field. A sniper is pointed at her. She walks, calm and aloof. They meet on center field, snipers all pointed.)
ANA: (speaks Russian) How's your Russian these days?
(Sydney speaks Russian, then switches to Spanish. Ana answers in Spanish.)
ANA: I heard about your fiance. Very sad. I thought perhaps it was a security execution sanctioned by your employer. Maybe you said something in your sleep you shouldn't have.
(Sloane and Mr. Bristow watch. Vaughn from his desk.)
ANA: But then why would you be here in service for the men that killed your true love?
(Sydney wants to fight her, but looks at all the snipers.)
SYDNEY: I take it you brought the key.
ANA: I take it you brought the box.
SYDNEY: Once we see what's inside, we go our separate ways.
(Sydney nods toward Ana. She takes out the key. Vaughn looks really nervous. Slone watches with Bristow. Sydney puts the box down on the ground, Ana takes the key and inserts it. They open it. A crackling sound is heard. Sydney's eyes get wide; Ana looks equally surprised at its contents.)
SYDNEY: Oh, my God.
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